


First Impressions

by ScottieIsImpatient



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Henry is an idiot, also george has a REALLY thick accent at first, have fun reading lol, i did NOT edit this, i dont know how to write julia, its probably littered with mistakes, or murdoch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: Because Murdoch Mysteries gives us very little actual backstory that isn't childhood memories, I decided to write my own little snippets of how I believe all the characters would have met.Warning: this fic DOES stray from canon a little bit, and years and character ages may be a little messed up because I'm too lazy to do any proper research.





	1. Acting Detective's Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Starting another fanfic while I haven't even finished my last one? It's more likely than you think.  
And by that I mean it's VERY likely.  
Actually, it's pretty much certain. I always do this.  
ANYway, enjoy these little short story things I wrote while I was bored. They aren't any more than three pages tbh, so they're short reads, but I wanted to keep the endings, well... open-ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George mentioned he moved back to Toronto when he was sixteen. He's probably around eighteen or nineteen in this fic. I have no idea what the age minimum for the constabulary was back in 1886 so I'm taking a wild guess.
> 
> Also, I headcanon that George's accent was pretty thick when he first got back to mainland, then slowly changed over time. Using personal experiences for that.
> 
> So, enjoy my portrayal of young adult Newfie George Crabtree and young Acting Detective William Murdoch's response.

Acting Detective William Murdoch.

He liked the sound of that.

After just three years working as a constable, William Murdoch had risen through the ranks, despite being a catholic. Many of his fellow peers were jealous of his success, even more so because of his religion, so he wasn’t given much in the way of congratulations when the promotion had been announced. Not that he’d expected it in the first place. Murdoch was perfectly happy with next to no praise: he found it frivolous. Work should be done whether or not one is given attention.

Murdoch was standing in the bathroom of his tiny apartment, tying up his tie as he went through how the morning would go in his mind. First, he’d walk into Station House Four, fifteen minutes early as per usual. He would make his way to his desk and begin sorting through his files, making sure everything was in order. He would check in with the Inspector, bringing him up to date on the recent case, then he would await further orders.

Murdoch smiled. Everything was ready to go. He couldn’t wait for the day to start. 

A wrench was thrown into his morning fantasy almost as soon as he stepped through the door.

“Ah, Constable Murdoch,” Inspector Brackenreid, who had only begun working at the station last year, boomed, clapping a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Acting Detective, actually,” Murdoch corrected. The inspector shot him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

“Glad to see you out and about so early,” the inspector went on in his thick accent, twiddling his bright red moustache. “Always nice to have a decent copper around here.”

“Of course, sir,” Murdoch responded, still not sure where this conversation was going. The inspector hadn’t greeted him like this before. Something must be up. _ Did I make an error? _Murdoch thought, stomach jumping.

“Aye, one of our best,” Inspector Brackenreid added, eyeing the young Acting Detective. “Dare I say, _ the _best?”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“It’s always good to have the best representative mentor the young lads,” the inspector finally said, waving his hand towards Murdoch’s desk. There was a young constable sitting there, his back to them. He was twirling a pen in his hand. Murdoch tilted his head. “Who-” he began to inquire, but the inspector beat him to the punch.

“CONSTABLE CRABTREE!!” he yelled, waking up the entire town. The young constable jerked to attention, almost tripping over his own feet. “Yes, sir!”

“Murdoch, I want you to meet our newest recruit to Station House Four,” Inspector Brackenreid chuffed, giving Murdoch a friendly nudge towards the young man. Murdoch wasn’t sure if he could even be _ described _as a man. He looked more like a boy than a man: brown hair obviously uncombed, a boyish grin on his face, smooth features. His brown eyes sparkled with eagerness. 

“Constable George Crabtree,” the boy said, grabbing Murdoch’s hand and shaking it vigorously. Murdoch chuckled nervously, eyeing the inspector, who nodded as if to say _ get on with it! _

“Acting Detective William Murdoch,” he replied, offering a polite nod. Constable Crabtree beamed. “Aye, the copper who done set records, yeah?”

Murdoch blinked. The boy had such a thick accent, he could hardly tell what he was saying. “Pardon?”

“The lad’s from the colony,” Inspector Brackenreid jumped in before Crabtree could even open his mouth. “New_found_land.”

“Newfound_land _,” the constable corrected, mildly irritated. “And that be correct.”

“Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted,” Inspector Brackenreid chuckled, patting Murdoch’s shoulder just a little too hard. “Good luck,” he whispered to the Acting Detective, just before he disappeared back into his office. 

“I hope ye don’t mind, I snuck some looks at your files,” Constable Crabtree began immediately, pointing to Murdoch’s desk. “This Russel case seems like a good one, don’t it, b’y?”

“Sir,” Murdoch corrected, nudging George out of the way. The constable nodded. “Sorry, sorry. First day, and all that.”

“Mm,” was all Acting Detective Murdoch said in response, trying to get himself lost in the files. 

“You think Mr. Russel did it, sir?” George asked, pointing to the photo of the man. “I find I don’t likes the look of ‘im.”

“That’s my theory, yes,” Murdoch sighed. He glanced at his pocketwatch. It hadn’t been five minutes and he already wanted to step outside for a breather. _ Maybe I should take the day off, _ he thought. _ Maybe Elizabeth will be available to meet today. _

He couldn’t just abandon his work, however, and it would be downright rude to just abandon this young constable on his first day.

_ Well, maybe I can grow to like him, _Murdoch thought as he glanced at the lad, but he just couldn’t see that happening. Not for a few weeks, anyway.

“‘Scuse me, Detective Murdoch, but how does I get my whistle back on this chain here?”

Make that years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is  
But expect more of it.


	2. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry's bad day gets better when he's transferred to Station House Four and a familiar face arises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for when George and Henry met!  
Okay, so teCHNICALLY this is not when they "first" met (in my headcanon), but I thought this would be more entertaining.  
I had fun with this lmao
> 
> !!!!NONE OF THIS IS CANON OFC!!!!

Henry couldn’t say he was exactly thrilled when Inspector Monolski announced that the constable would be moving from Station House Three to Station House Four. He’d only been there for a month and a half; not early enough time to get to know the area, don’t mind his coworkers. Not that many of them wanted to speak to him, anyway. As hard as Henry tried, he just could not get many of the other constables to like him.

Sure, there was Constable Grayson, and Constable Walsh, but Henry was used to being ranked high in popularity. As a schoolboy, he had the biggest army of friends you’d ever seen. When he started working the desk at the family store, he would make acquaintance with every customer who came in.

Two people was mostly definitely a downgrade compared to his past achievements.

Oh well. Maybe the lads at Station Four would like him better.

Henry was packing up the last of is things when someone gave him a friendly slap on the back, pulling him into a hug.

“Our lad’s moving on, is he?” jeered Constable Gibbons. His friends behind him all chuckled.

“Finally get fired?” one asked.

“It’s no surprise.”

“Let’s hope they actually like you where you’re goin’.”

Henry shrugged Gibbons off and threw in his last item, his helmet, before picking up the box and strolling towards the exit with his head high.

The cabbie was an old man who looked rather inconvenienced at the time Henry was taking. “What, went to get drinks with your friends?” he asked bitterly with a scowl.

“Indeed,” Henry lied as he shoved the box in the back. “Just having a good ol’ party.”

“A goodbye party!” one of the constables yelled from the doorway. “We’re throwing it out of celebration for his departure.”

Henry pretended not to hear, nor pay attention as the cabbie gave him a raised eyebrow.

Inspector Monolski jogged out to see him off. He was trying not to smile at the other constable’s comments, but Henry could see the failure behind his attempts.

“Good luck at Station Four, Higgins,” he said with a nod. “I hear their new Acting Detective is a… well, let’s just say he’s an odd one.”

“An odd one?” Henry echoed. The Inspector shrugged. “They say he’s a papist,” he whispered, before knocking the side of the carriage twice.

The carriage lurched forward, causing Henry to startle a bit.

“Sorry,” the old cabbie said. “Horses are not what they used to be, I’ll tell you that.”

Henry nodded.

As close as the numbers three and four were, the station houses were anything but. By the time Henry arrived at Station House Four, which was located right across from the morgue, he noticed, it was already early afternoon. They’d hit traffic on the way back, along with an accident. Henry swore the universe was just out to get him.

“Have a good day,” he told the cabbie as he hauled his box of stuff from the carriage. The cabbie only grunted in response. He clicked his tongue twice and the horses went off.

Henry noticed that they were walking much smoother than when he’d been in the carriage.

“You must be Constable Henry Higgins,” an English-accented voice came from behind. Henry whirled around, his helmet hitting the side of the box. In front of him stood a red-headed man with a bushy moustache and large sideburns. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m Inspector Brackenreid,” the man boomed, slinging his arm around Henry’s shoulder. “Welcome to our humble Station House.”

“Th-thanks for having me, sir,” Henry sputtered, repeating the very same words he’d told Inspector Monolski one month and seventeen days ago. Really, what else was he to do? He was already feeling a bit overwhelmed, and certainly Station Four’s Inspector would not realize that the words were recycled.

“Let me give you the grand tour,” the Inspector said proudly. “Burns, open the door, will you?”

The middle-aged constable did what he was told, much to Henry’s surprise. As much authority that Inspector Monolski had, the constables at Station Three would treat him as an equal most of the time.

Well, all except Henry, of course.

The interior was much larger than Henry had anticipated. To start, the bullpen was much more open, and the offices of the Detective and the Inspector both had perfectly clear windows. What seemed to be piles of junk were thrown across the detective’s office. Inside, a young man was fiddling with what appeared to be a bicycle wheel.

“Ah, yes, that’s Detective Murdoch,” Inspector Brackenreid said when he caught Henry looking. “A fine chap. A bit daft, if I do say so. Always off in his own world.”

“Isn’t he a-”

“Well, I’ll be,” a new yet familiar voice gasped. “Is that Henry Higgins I be seeing with my own two eyes?”

That accent. Henry knew that accent.

“George Crabtree?” he exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. He dropped the box onto a desk with a thunk and pulled the fellow constable into a tight hug.

“I haven’t seen ya since training, b’y!” George chuckled, pulling away. He looked a bit different than when Henry had last saw him. Then again, Henry was as well.

George’s hair, which had usually been an untameable mess, was now sleeked back neatly. His sideburns had grown longer, and if Henry didn’t know better, something about his friend’s voice had changed too.

“Didn’t you have a thicker accent a couple months ago?” Henry realized. George grinned, nodding. “That I did, yeah. I suppose time in the city changed that. So what brings you here?”

“Actually,” Henry said, “I’ve been transferred here from Station Three.”

“No,” gasped George, eyes widening. “You’re serious?”

“Why would I joke?”

Behind them, Inspector Brackenreid was watching them with increasing annoyance in his eyes. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. “There’s two of them.”

Then he turned and walked back to his office.

Neither Henry nor George heard his comment, however, which he would later think was a blessing from whatever god, if any, resided up there.

“You’ll have to meet the lads,” George was saying, spinning his police issued truncheon around, “They’ll love ya. I’ll introduce you now, how ‘bout that? We can go for drinks on our lunch break.”

“Sounds great!”

Before long, Henry had left all memories of Station House Three behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stg MM better give us more Henry backstory or I will riot


End file.
